The warm-up playlist can be heard from the back fields of the Mets facility all the way to the parking lot surrounding First Data Field.

Which is to say, if one chooses to have a conversation a few feet behind the cage during batting practice, when electronic dance music by Clean Bandit is on full blast, it would be difficult to do so above a whisper.

Yet, there were Mendoza and Callaway, holding a lengthy and emphatic 15-minute conversation with no signs of having a difficult time hearing one another.

Next, Mendoza moved away from Callaway and stood around with general manager Brodie Van Wagenen and Omar Minaya and held another lengthy conversation. The front-office inner-circle didn’t seem to be whispering.

It’s not a good look for Mendoza, who on her sole visit to camp got out of speaking to reporters about her new front-office role by using her laryngitis as an excuse.

Mendoza has every right to deny an interview with the media. That’s all well and good.

But for the Mets to go out of their way and say it pains Mendoza’s throat to speak louder than a whisper — when in fact she patrolled her way around camp doing the opposite — sounds like a classic act by the paranoid Wilpons to divert attention away from their newest front office addition.

If Mendoza spoke to reporters, and pushed her voice for a small, often intimate Mets media huddle the same way she managed to speak with Callaway, Minaya and Van Wagenen above a whisper, that would mean she’d also be on camera.

Suddenly, Mendoza would overtake national television stations and radio outlets everywhere. The Wilpons can’t have that.